


The getaway

by FreeShavocadoo



Category: HiGH&LOW (Movies), HiGH&LOW: the Story of S.W.O.R.D. (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationships, Fluff, Holiday, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 12:26:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15388740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreeShavocadoo/pseuds/FreeShavocadoo
Summary: Nakamon and Mocai take a small holiday away from the Prison Gang at Brown's insistence, reminiscing about their unconventional relationship.





	The getaway

**Author's Note:**

  * For [byakuyakuchiki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/byakuyakuchiki/gifts).



The breeze is gentle, wafting the faint smell of salt through the air, accompanying the rhythmic sway of the sea back and forth on the shore. The sun is low in the sky, casting red and orange shadows across the sand, reflecting on the surface of the water that seems to look more inviting by the second.

The weight of Mocai is reassuring to Nakamon, sitting upright, content to have Mocai’s back against his chest, sitting between his legs. From this angle, he can appreciate the way the sun seems to make Mocai’s skin glow, how different it makes him look when compared to the dull yellow fluorescent lights of prison. The smile on Mocai’s face, Nakamon thinks, is far more radiant than the sun. He allows himself this small moment to just take it all in, to keep his arms wrapped around Mocai’s waist, to feel the warmth on his skin. Mocai’s soft sigh of content just makes the moment more soothing as he slowly moves further back into Nakamon, tilting his head back to stare at Nakamon with a shy smile.

“I guess we should thank Brown later, huh?” Mocai chuckles, running his thumb over Nakamon’s arms circled around his waist.

“This is the shittiest seaside resort in the country, I’m not gonna thank him for shit,” Nakamon grumbles, but he finds it hard to truly mean it when he sees how happy Mocai looks regardless, “we don’t need his head to get any bigger.”

Mocai laughs and for a moment Nakamon is rendered completely speechless, only being able to stare intently at the way Mocai’s eyes crinkle and his face moves from being angular and sharp to soft and youthful. Nakamon thinks he’s not the only one that sometimes forgets how young they actually are, sometimes.

“You know,” Mocai muses, looking back at Nakamon once more, “this is the first time I’ve left the place I grew up.”

“Me too.” Nakamon kisses the top of Mocai’s head, wondering how exactly two people of their age have never left the general area in which they grew up.

“Unless Rasen counts as a vacation.” Mocai sniggers, looking very amused with himself.

“No, it definitely doesn’t.” Nakamon huffs, flicking Mocai’s arm gently.

“It wasn’t all bad, was it? I met you, didn’t I?” Mocai smiles, staring into the distance with a serene expression. Nakamon finds it hard to pinpoint when exactly Mocai had weaselled into his heart so quickly that statements like that made his head fuzzy and his chest tighten. By instinct, Nakamon wants to distance himself, but he knows now that maybe his first instincts aren’t his best ones.

 

* * *

 

 

_It’s the first proper night they’ve all spent out together since leaving Rasen, at Jesse’s insistence, they enter the Funk Jungle in as orderly a fashion as they can. Brown is practically bubbling over with excitement, swinging on Jesse’s arm happily. Jesse just looks pleased to be amongst some of his old friends, but doesn’t leave any of the prison gang to go and speak with them, for the time being, anyway. He’d said something along the lines of ‘this is **us** time’. Pho seems surprisingly nervous, holding Jesse’s hand free hand closely. He’d said he was nervous to meet Jesse’s old crew, not wanting to cause any conflict. Akune and Miou seem to both be in a state of childlike awe, looking around at the flashing lights and dancing customers of the Funk Jungle, both tilting their heads at exactly the same time. _

_Nakamon knows how Mocai gets sometimes when it’s hard to spot where everyone is, knowing that inevitably everyone will split up at some point. He grabs Mocai’s hand, although in typical Nakamon fashion it’s more like he’s snatching it, pulling him close by his side. Thankfully, both are of an imposing enough height to make it through the crowd with ease. Nakamon supposes it helps that they both have very angry resting faces, though he knows it’s his own that tends to veer into more intimidating territory than Mocai’s._

_By the time they make it to the bar, Nakamon just orders a couple of beers, not wanting to spend an excessive amount of time worrying himself over what he might like to drink. Mocai clinks his glass with Nakamon’s, taking a small sip. Nakamon knows well enough not to press the matter, aware that Mocai likes to be able to retain his coherence to be aware of his surroundings and is generally opposed to alcohol in excessive quantities._

_“You good?” He shouts over the music, leaning closer to Mocai so he can hear him, his hand on Mocai’s waist._

_“Yeah!” Mocai shouts back, giving Nakamon a small nod. Nakamon wonders if he feels so close to Mocai because he’s similar in the way that he also doesn’t show much change in his expressions, coming across as rather cold to outsiders. He knows that they are both like this for completely different reasons, yet it still presents itself as similar._

_As soon as his eyes leave Mocai’s, however, he’s suddenly overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people that seem to be around. It’s like every corner of Nakamon’s personal space is suddenly invaded and now he’s hyperaware, trying to look for a gap or opening of some description, the panicking rising deep in his chest. Even though he knows Mocai has only turned to talk to Pho, the sudden absence of a familiar presence or face makes it worse. He dumps the beer bottle down on the bar, sliding past the club goers, letting his feet carry him up the stairs, unaware where he’s going but just wanting to go. By the time he’s taken a deep breath, he’s on the roof, the air is bitter and cold. The bass from the music makes it feel like the ground is shaking, vibrating on every surface of the roof. Nakamon drops to floor, sitting with his knees up and arms wrapped around them. He hopes that Pho is still with Mocai, the instant guilt of having left him biting away at him._

_He isn’t sure how long he’s been on the roof for when Brown opens the door, walking straight towards Nakamon with a concerned look._

_“Hey,” he whispers softly, kneeling down beside Nakamon and wrapping what he assumes can only be Pho’s fur coat around him, “you okay, sweetheart?”_

_“M’fine.” Nakamon wishes his voice wasn’t as hoarse as it sounded, still weary of being vulnerable, of being seen this way._

_“Come inside with me, darling,” he pulls Nakamon up by hooking his hands under Nakamon’s shoulders, letting Nakamon lean against him for a moment, “Mocai is worried sick.”_

_Nakamon can feel the guilt curling in his gut, wondering how he could be so selfish._

_“Stop. Don’t do that. He’s not upset with you, he’s not angry at you, so stop feeling guilty.” For once Brown’s voice is serious, not laced with his usual teasing inflections, his hand on Nakamon’s back as he leads him down the stairs. Nakamon can’t even remember having seen these corridors, let alone walked up them himself. Brown manoeuvres him into one of the rooms, shutting the door behind them both._

_Nakamon knows as soon as he looks around it has to be the room Jesse has been using. He’d said to them all that they’d all have rooms if they were so inclined, by Ice’s acceptance, but they’d all yet to use them. This room just screamed Jesse, clothes scattered across the floor, candles littered on every surface, a vague scent of lavender. Nakamon recalls Jesse having once told him lavender helps calm his temper and wonders if he should start implementing lavender into his life as well._

_“Hey,” Mocai is suddenly in front of him, Nakamon having barely registered he was in the room until Mocai is an inch from him, hands on his cheeks, “I’m here.”_

_Nakamon appreciates the way Mocai doesn’t tell him that ‘it’s all okay’ or ‘he’s completely safe’, because he’s not felt entirely okay or safe since he was a toddler and the thought of being told that would be laughable to him. It was still a working progress, being around so many people concerned about his wellbeing. Prison after all, was somewhat of a welcome respite for him at the time, having spent nights on end sleeping rough outside on the streets. Whilst being locked up was hardly ideal for him mentally, at least he had a bed to lie on, a roof over his head and food to eat. He had never expected to find people he loved that loved him back, either, but that was another benefit._

_He allows himself time to just lean against Mocai, to be held in the arms he’s so familiar with. He slides his hand up the back of Mocai’s shirt, just wanting to feel the familiar length of skin under his fingertips, the soft muscle and skin under his hand. Mocai stays still, stroking Nakamon’s hair, shifting it from its usual gelled back position. Nakamon moves forward, pushing Mocai backwards onto the bed and just letting himself land on Mocai whichever way the wind takes him, his head landing comfortably on Mocai’s chest._

_“My beautiful boyfriend,” Mocai whispers, running his fingers down the back of Nakamon’s neck, “I’m so lucky.”_

_“Shut up being so perfect for one second, will you?” Nakamon grumbles, a small sniffle escaping. Mocai laughs a little, squeezing him tightly and kissing all over his face._

_Brown flops down on the bed beside them, head resting on his hand. His expression is thoughtful and Nakamon feels momentarily worried, wondering what exactly Brown has conjured up in his head this time._

_“I think you two should go away for a little while.” He stares thoughtfully into the distance._

_“Excuse me?” Nakamon replies, raising an eyebrow._

_“I mean on a holiday,” Brown nudges his cheek playfully, “you grumpy moron.”_

_Nakamon is about to tell him that’s the most ridiculous idea he’s ever heard until he sees Mocai’s expression, how hopeful it looks. He can tell just by the way Mocai is staring into the distance with unfocused eyes that he’s entirely open to the idea, so that makes up Nakamon’s mind for him._

_“Sure.”_

 

* * *

 

“I wanna go in the water.” Mocai decides, standing up and brushing himself down. He’s lacking his usual obnoxious prints in his clothing, instead opting for a plain t-shirt and jeans. He’d already kicked his shoes off by this point, telling Nakamon that it was pointless to be going to a beach if he won’t walk properly on the sand.

“Fine.” Nakamon growls, irritated at the sudden movement and the absence of the soothing warmth of Mocai’s back against his chest. He takes his own shoes off now, discarding them next to the small towel they’d been sitting on.

Before he’s even had time to dust himself down, Mocai is already running like a child to the edge of the tide, kicking around in the water happily with his jeans rolled up. Nakamon cares little for his underhanded methods and slips his phone out of his pocket to take a picture whilst Mocai isn’t looking, smiling at the glee on Mocai’s face as he kicks the water around himself, probably getting more of it on himself than anywhere else. He puts his phone with the rest of their belongings, glad he’d told Mocai earlier to take his phone out of his pocket, having already had the sneaking suspicion that he’d probably jump into the water without a second thought.

“Come on!” He shouts from the shore, spinning around happily. Nakamon can hardly find it in himself to refuse Mocai, so he speed-walks towards him, not yet ready to show Mocai the power that he has over him by running over like he may have wanted to.

He swiftly picks Mocai up, arms hooked around his waist, twirling him. It’s like all of a sudden, being in this new place allows him to be something he wasn’t before, more open and excitable. As soon as Mocai’s legs wrap around him and his arms snake around his neck, Nakamon knows he’s made the right decision, blissed out from the waves washing over his feet and Mocai’s delicate breathing against his neck. Mocai pulls back and just _stares_ at him, like Nakamon is suddenly the view he was awestruck by. He moves forward with such vigour to kiss him that Nakamon can only retain his balance for a few seconds longer before falling onto his back in the sand, the few inches of water that reach them washing over them both. Mocai laughs, all teeth and twinkling eyes and Nakamon wonders how it’s possible to love someone this much.

 

* * *

 

 

_If there was one thing Mocai was certain of, it was that Nakamon despised shopping trips. It was less towards the aspect of finding clothes he liked, Mocai had always been jealous of how good everything looked on Nakamon and how easily he put things together that just suited him, but more the wandering around aimlessly part. Brown had insisted that with their second lot of money they should go out as a small group and go shopping and naturally, Nakamon refused blind but let himself be dragged along by Brown anyway. This meant that in his haste not to be left being the bag carrier, he grabbed Mocai’s hand on the way out, giving him a look of utter desperation that Mocai found ridiculously endearing._

_Currently, Brown was perusing endless racks of gaudy floral shirts, picking up the hangers and holding them in front of himself, preening in front of the mirror. Mocai has to resist the urge to laugh as he walks past, seeking out Nakamon. He finds him wandering at a relaxed pace, fingers running over some of the clothes._

_“Find anything good?” Mocai wraps his arms around Nakamon’s waist, resting his chin on his shoulder. When he sees the clothes Nakamon is currently carrying, his mouth goes slightly dry and his breath shortens. A black fishnet vest with a black, sleeveless leather jacket. Mocai thinks that if anyone else dared to pick up something like this he’d probably laugh in their face, wondering what possessed them to dress like a male backup dancer in a gay bar, but the thought of Nakamon in it has him all kinds of distracted._

_“Yeah, I guess,” Nakamon stares thoughtfully at the clothes in his hands, “you know, I’d have never dreamt of wearing anything like this a few years ago.”_

_Mocai’s arms tighten around his waist, rubbing small circles on his hips soothingly, Nakamon sighing at the contact._

_“You were beautiful then,” Mocai whispers into his neck, “and you’re breath-taking now.”_

_Mocai knows that it’s been hard for Nakamon, having spent so long feeling a sense of disconnect with himself, hiding behind barbed words and scathing stares. Whilst he was comfortable with all of the prison gang, letting them show physical affection, he often told Mocai how he struggled to look at himself with affection, or touch his own body with affection. He’d once described himself as a canvas that had been painted over to be blank again, but with paint so thin you could still see cracks of the original._

_Knowing that Nakamon would be opposed to anything he saw as charity meant that Mocai had to be careful once they’d all settled down into life at the Funk Jungle, approaching Jesse to talk to him, saying that if they had enough money they should use it to make everyone happy. Jesse had wholeheartedly agreed and before long, Pho, Akune and Miou and Mocai himself had poured the money they’d earned from Doubt and their other endeavours towards Nakamon, managing just about to cover the costs of the surgery that Nakamon had so desperately but so privately wanted._

_By the time Nakamon had tearfully but begrudgingly accepted the money, Jesse had already recommended a place, telling Nakamon that he could take all the time he needed off to heal afterwards. Mocai had held his hand all the way there on the day and had given him his distance when it was done, knowing that Nakamon wanted some space of his own to recover before anyone saw him. The first time Nakamon accepts Mocai into his room after he’s healed, Mocai is speechless. Whilst Nakamon had held a certain confidence previously, now he carried himself with a conviction he hadn’t had before, seeming to stand even taller._

_“You’re beautiful,” Mocai had whispered to him, running his hands so delicately over Nakamon’s skin it was like he was touching the air around him instead, “so beautiful.”_

_“I want you to touch **me** ,” Nakamon had replied, moving Mocai’s hands over his chest, guiding them along the curve of his new scars, his eyes closing and fluttering slightly, “now you can see me as I want to be seen.”_

_“All I’ve ever seen is you.” Mocai had murmured, overwhelmed._

 

* * *

 

“I guess we should probably go back to our hotel and get changed.” Mocai laughs, standing up with his t-shirt sticking to him and what looked like several layers of sand attached to his jeans, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Nakamon nods, sliding his shoes back on, caring little for the sand covering his feet and just wanting to get out of his sodden clothes as soon as possible. Mocai takes his hand once more, picking up his bag in the other and strolling down the street leisurely. Thankfully, it isn’t a long walk back to the hotel, the absence of the sun making the breeze bite into their damp skin. Mocai barely waits until their door is shut behind them before flinging off his shirt onto Nakamon’s head, laughing when Nakamon grumbles, only to then throw his jeans at him too. Nakamon follows suit down to his boxers, their clothes now lying in a haphazard pile on the floor beside the doorway.

It’s like time stops when Mocai just looks at him, his stare is hungry and intimate, yet Nakamon doesn’t feel scrutinised but instead feels beautiful. Mocai approaches him slowly, taking Nakamon’s cheeks in both of his hands and staring so intensely that Nakamon feels the butterflies in his stomach. Mocai runs his thumbs over Nakamon’s cheeks, over his jaw and then moves his hands onto his shoulders, running his fingers over them tentatively. All over again Nakamon is left completely malleable to this mans touch, moulding into him in a way that left him feeling the best kind of vulnerable.

“Mine.” Mocai whispers, kissing Nakamon’s shoulder and pulling him towards the bed, making Nakamon familiar once more with Mocai’s startling combination of intimacy, attentiveness, intensity and receptiveness. Never had another mans touch left him so bare and fulfilled, never leaving him waiting or wanting but giving him always exactly what he needed, when he needed it.

 

* * *

 

 

_The door to Nakamon’s room opens and Mocai glances briefly before paying all of his attention to him, taking in the sight of Nakamon in his fishnet shirt and leather jacket, his long legs covered by black jeans, standing tall and relaxed as ever, his tattoos on full display. He runs a hand through his hair and Mocai inwardly curses at himself for not just taking a picture of him like this, wanting this image in his head forever. As soon as the others see him, walking past at different times, all give varying compliments to him and Mocai can tell it means the world to Nakamon, who is wearing not only his heart on his sleeve but his journey on his chest._

_After special consideration, Mocai decides he’s been patient enough and backs Nakamon back into his room, pushing him onto the bed with ease. Nakamon’s eyes widen slightly, his hair dishevelled, his cheeks flushed. Mocai grins deviously, pulling out Pearl’s favourite polaroid camera that he had graciously ‘borrowed’, snapping a picture whilst Nakamon was still in a state of shock. Nakamon remains completely silent as Mocai waits for the picture to develop, staring over it at Nakamon briefly before tucking it into his jacket pocket, grinning._

_“You’re the sexiest man I’ve ever seen.” He teases, tickling Nakamon’s ribs, ignoring his feeble protests and pitiful kicks._

_“You’re an asshole!” Nakamon protests, his half-hearted insults being completely overridden by the surprisingly soft smile on his face._

_“Hey guys,” Pearl pokes his head around the door without knocking, looking around the room inquisitively, “have you seen my camera?”_

_“Learn how to knock, asshole,” Nakamon huffs, looking more embarrassed by the second, now shifting awkwardly under Mocai’s weight, Mocai who has no intention of lessening his embarrassment by moving. He does, however, have the good sense to hide the polaroid camera from Pearl’s gaze._

_“Sorry, man!” Pearl laughs awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck, “just lemme know if you see it.”_

_“I’m a little busy here.” Nakamon bites, staring so malevolently that even Pearl has the good sense to shut the door behind him. Mocai stares down devilishly._

_“I wonder what other great picture taking opportunities might arise.” He smirks, leaning down to kiss Nakamon once more, Nakamon who barely even cares about the prospect of Mocai carrying around ridiculously explicit pictures of him at this point, considering they’ve all seen each other naked by now. Besides, Nakamon thinks, Mocai will probably want to keep these to himself._

* * *

 

 

The sun pokes through the curtains, Nakamon’s eyes straining when they open, now wishing they’d have stopped in their haste to get to the bed in time to shut the curtains properly. At least the blinds were shut, though, he thinks. Mocai is sprawled carelessly, half under and over the duvet, being a messy sleeper as usual. His face is turned sideways on the pillow, his strongly angled eyebrows now soft with relaxation, his mouth slightly open. Nakamon resists the urge to touch him, wanting to leave him in his deep sleep a little while longer, opting instead to just roll over to face him, becoming even more familiar with the face he could probably draw every freckle for in his sleep.

“Good morning.” Mocai’s voice is husky and slow, his eyes still droopy from tiredness. Nakamon just wants to squeeze him as close as possible and never let go.

“Mornin’.” He replies, moving Mocai’s silvery brown hair from his face tenderly, tickling under his chin.

“I think we need to do this more often.” Mocai nuzzles his head into Nakamon’s neck, rolling so he was lay half on top of Nakamon, leg curled around him. When he kisses Nakamon’s bare chest, Nakamon’s breath hitches, his hand on Mocai’s lower back squeezing slightly.

“I love you,” Mocai murmurs sleepily into Nakamon’s chest, kissing over the scars with a feather soft touch, “so much.”

“I love you too.” Nakamon replies, feeling the weight of the world exit him entirely, until it’s only him and Mocai, wrapped around each other so closely it was hard to tell where one started and the other ended, his mind rushing too fast too soon to go back to sleep but being perfectly content with just being there with Mocai.

All things considered, Nakamon thinks, this holiday went pretty fucking well.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a gift for one of my favourite people and I hope that he enjoys it!


End file.
